


A Nice Day to Start Again

by eighth_chiharu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighth_chiharu/pseuds/eighth_chiharu
Summary: It's finally here, and Hux has to face it.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	A Nice Day to Start Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarKillerBae (Luciferous)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciferous/gifts).



Hux couldn’t believe he’d let it come to this.

He stood in his bedroom in his undershirt and cream-colored trousers and stared at himself in the narrow mirror. The glass was clean, with no smudge or crack to hide behind. He looked as he always had: tall, red-haired, pale, severe. He didn’t look like someone who had changed. He didn’t resemble someone who deserved a happy ending.

“If you mess this up, you’ll ruin everything,” he said.

His reflection didn’t reply.

He turned and went to the washroom. Blue and white tiles spilled over the refresher floor in a simple pattern, the walls a matching soft white, and pictures of flowers were displayed in silver frames. Dark blue towels hung on the silver rack. It was tasteful and quiet.

Hux sort of hated it.

His quarters hadn’t been as lovely three years ago. Back then, his lodgings had consisted of one stone box, a tiny compartment deep in the mountain barely qualifying as a monk’s cell, with a dimly lit community refresher down the rough hewn hallway. They’d led him there when he’d first been discharged from their wholly inadequate medical facility, graced him with another cane and a brace and synthskin in grayscale patterns and told him to ‘take some time’. They meant ‘leave us alone.’ No-one in the Resistance had wanted him, but because he’d helped them, their honour wouldn’t allow them to throw him away.

They’d given him a better place after they’d won. When Palpatine had fallen and Rey had returned, the old Imperials had receded like a drying puddle, disappearing or going into hiding to lick their wounds. They were no match for the new union the Resistance had called up. Peace was established, the New Republic strengthened, and Hux was rewarded for his betrayal with a quiet magnanimity that annoyed him. A new set of rooms for a hero. He even had his own refresher. 

The synthskin fell off a month later, leaving scars behind: a round one about the size of his fist on his chest, and a second one, smaller because of the closer range, eternally staining his upper thigh. His leg ached when the weather changed. His heart stuttered if he worked too hard. He was no longer the pinnacle of health and discipline, an example to thousands of men. He was only... damaged.

He turned on the tap and wet a washrag, then pressed the cold cloth against his eyes. His heart burned inside him and his eyes matched. He would leave this new room today. Walk out of it and never come back.

“Hux?”

Rey’s voice came from the front door. He had only a parlor, a bedroom and a refresher, but it was more than many had. It kept Rey a whole room away, able to sense his nervousness but not witness it.

He clamped down on his emotions, pressing the damp cloth harder against his face before dragging it down, wiping away any wetness. Relaxing his throat, he called, “Be right there.”

“Sorry,” she called back. The front door shut. “I’m supposed to be your escort.”

“I remember.”

She made a humming sound. 

He picked up his comb and did his hair, clearing it of tangles and sweeping it back off his forehead. A touch of hair product, and it stayed. He didn’t slick it down as fiercely as he had when he was in uniform. They hadn’t had the products he used when he’d first come here, and he’d lost the habit.

“Everyone’s in the clearing, if you’re wondering.”

“I’m not.” 

The comb went on the sink. He went back through the parlor to his bedroom, giving her a swift glance. She wore a white sleeveless shift, the flowing robes of her desert home still influencing her choice of garb. The shift fell to her ankles, but it was split up the sides to her knees, revealing white leggings beneath. Her shoulders were toned and tanned. The scar on her upper arm was visible.

He saw it all in a moment and then he was in the bedroom, cycling through the calming exercises he’d been taught long ago. They didn’t succeed in soothing him, but they helped blot out the details of his thoughts, keeping them as secret as they could be.

“It’s all right to be nervous,” Rey said, following him into the bedroom. 

Of course she would sense it. He didn’t turn to look at her, focusing as hard as he could on getting dressed. “I shouldn’t be nervous. Nothing will change, this is just another ceremony in a long line of ceremonies. The only difference is the audience.” 

On the closet door hung the white tunic he would wear today. Someone else had picked it out. It was elegant, though, he had to give it that. It sort of resembled his old First order uniform: the same crisp lines; the tailored waist; the skirting that came to his thighs. It was different in that it was made from a creamy white fabric that felt soft and sturdy. It was tastefully formal. Honorable. 

Clipped to each shoulder were golden claps and a cape, the lining crimson red. A hero's cape that he didn’t deserve. 

He didn’t deserve any of it. 

Rey touched his shoulder, her tone meant to be reassuring. “It’s a bit more than just a ceremony. Besides, I’m pretty sure Ben is going to cry when he sees you in that.” 

Hux snatched the tunic off the hanger and yanked down the hidden zipper. “I haven’t even seen what he’s wearing.”

“It’s similar. There isn’t much variety in formal wear around here.” She paused. “Did you want something different? You said —”

Hux cut her off. “I imagine he’ll look like he always does. Stubborn. Bossy. A prince.” 

She grinned. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”   
  
His face heated. “You will do no such thing!”   
  
He pinned Rey with his sternest look, but she didn’t seem bothered. Maybe it was the blush. She sat on the edge of his bed, long legs out before her, watching him calmly. She kept the smile.   
  
He grunted and turned away from her, tugging the tunic on and securing the hidden closures, adjusting it to hang properly with the extra weight of the cloak. Once it was settled on his shoulders, it fit perfectly. Whoever made it knew their business. The fabric conformed to his slender frame, flattering along the waist, while the padded shoulders and heavy cloak made his shoulders seem wider than they were. 

“You look wonderful,” Rey said from behind him. 

He disagreed, but he hoped how he did look was enough. It had to be enough, because it was all he could do. It was all he had to offer to someone who was so much better than he was.

“I appreciate the flattery, but let’s go. No point in waiting any longer.” 

Hux checked his hair one more time before turning back to face Rey. He lifted his chin and thrust his chest out, shoulders back. She stood and followed him out, considerately silent for once.

His heart hammered against his breastbone as they stepped out of his small apartment. He shut the door and locked it, then paused, fingers sliding off the entry pad to rest on the wall just beneath the touch-sensitive plate. This was it. He wouldn’t ever shut this door again, or walk down this hallway. He would never return to this place. From here on, he would not be Armitage Hux. 

The thought was profound. 

He didn’t speak as he walked away. The living arrangements were improved since the end of the war, but still were their own building, separate from the now-unnecessary wall that ran around the complex. They crossed over metal and through transparisteel, and out into the fresh air, over the slightly rolling grass and the worn dirt path. It was peaceful here, but it wasn’t anywhere important. Everyone could have moved somewhere else any time they liked. They didn’t have to stay on this planet, at the site of an old Resistance base, where the buildings were minimal and the trees were deep green and water came from a well. They could have gone to Coruscant or Chandrila, lived louder, more complicated lives.

They stayed here, instead. He did, too.

The wall was a short walk through the small town. Hux saw its highest arches before he saw the doors. Double doors made of bronze with handles of silvery alloy, a stone walkway before them. Small shrubs grew alongside the path, and short trees flanked the jamb. They were waiting for him beyond those doors.

Ben was waiting.

Hux stopped a few meters back. The quiet resounded with the lack of footfalls. Birds called to each other in liquid trills, branches waving as they burst into flight and wheeled away into the clear sky.

This was it.

“Are you ready?” Rey asked him, stepping closer.

It was too late to run, or escape to Canto Bight and skip out on the whole show of pomp and circumstance. He was committed. There was no point in asking if he was ready. 

“Yes,” he said simply, not trusting himself to say more. 

“Good.” Beside him, Rey nodded. “Don’t forget this.”

She handed him a bouquet. It was a full, heavy thing, fat white blooms from local flora holding court over smaller pink flowers and green sprigs, twined round with a double white-and-black ribbon. He took it, closing his hands on the fabric-wrapped stems. The blossoms trembled slightly. Rey graciously pretended not to notice. 

She turned toward the wall and made a slight sweeping gesture with her hand. The massive doors creaked open by her sheer will and the cooperation of the Force. Warm, flower-scented air wafted out. Music swelled, and the brightness outside resolved itself into people.

It was... everyone.

Everyone from their small town was in the clearing, seated in rows on white benches, shimmery white fabric draped between seats, a matching white carpet running down the aisle between the benches. They gazed at the doors, at him, all those leftover rebels and sympathizers who’d come here to change things and stayed for love of the place. The remaining pilots who wanted peace and the navigators who needed quiet, the new mothers and seasoned fighters. The few loyalists who’d followed Hux from the First Order to the New Republic... and Ben.  
  
Ben, tall and broad, his back to the tree-fringed lake and soaring mountains, the sun shining down on him like a benediction. His dark hair was glossy like a bird's wing, wavy and soft and inviting, and Hux wanted nothing so much as to touch it. Thrust his hands beneath those dark locks, feel the thick silk and the warmth of Ben's nape.

Suddenly he couldn't think of anything else. Even with the crowd and decorations and beautiful scenery, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Ben. 

The man had always been beautiful, but in this moment, he was radiant. He was a prince just as Hux had predicted, a prince in a fairytale or an Arkanian sea nymph, dressed in silver and gray hues, his golden brown eyes shining with a love that was both flattering and humbling. 

Ben Solo was looking at him with tears in his eyes, and Hux’s own prickled in reply. 

The music rose around Hux, prompting. He took those first soft steps onto a white carpet, shoes sinking into the short nap, and had to hold himself back as all doubt fell away. It took effort to let everyone watch them, to not go marching up the aisle in a hurry, but it was worth it. He savored the moment as hard as he could. He drank in the small murmurs of the town, the kiss of a breeze against his cheek, the smells of tree resin and fresh flowers. 

When he reached the end of the carpeted aisle, Ben held out his hand. Hux took it as he stepped up onto the small dais beside him. Ben’s fingers were warm and strong, and they folded around Hux’s without an ounce of hesitation. Maybe Hux didn’t deserve this — Ben, and a chance at happiness — but he’d try every day to be worthy of both.

For Ben, he was willing to never be Armitage Hux again. 

“Dearly beloved,” the officiant began, smiling at them both before raising her eyes to the happy, waiting crowd, “we are gathered here today to witness two people as they enter into one of the most wondrous bonds in the galaxy.”

He’d be Armitage Solo.

**Author's Note:**

> Art by Starkillersbae on tumblr.


End file.
